


Maybe You'll Be Heard

by ronans



Series: Prompts [5]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Bullying, High School, M/M, Smoking, Speech Disorders, Stuttering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronans/pseuds/ronans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Prompt:</strong> Ian has a speaking difficulty (such as stuttering) so he hates speaking, naturally, Mickey loves his voice - <a href="http://southsidemilkovich.tumblr.com/post/106024066304/prompt-where-ian-has-a-speaking-difficulty-such">Anon</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I spent ages trying to figure out a title and settled on this... it sounds kinda cheesy? I apologise.  
> I think Mickey's slightly out of character here but... yeah. I hope you like it!

Now, Mickey’s not saying he’s gay or anything – not out loud, at least – but Ian Gallagher looks seriously good in the winter. Whenever Mickey’s leaning against the wall of the main school building smoking a cigarette in the morning, he sees Ian stride in through the gates, head down. He’s always wearing a blue beanie, a body warmer and dark jeans. It’s because of this that Mickey actually wishes he came to school more often.

In some ways, he wants to approach Ian and start talking to him, maybe get to know him a little, but something tells him he’d completely fuck that up. Plus, Ian’s cautious of people talking to him anyway. Mickey’s seen kids go up to Ian and start making fun of him because he can’t spit out his words right. Makes him slightly sick that people at the school get a kick out of it, but it’s exactly that; high school kids taking the piss out of someone weaker. And Ian really does view his difficulty as a weakness. Well, Mickey assumes so because he tries to talk as little as possible.

It’s fucking cold outside and Gallagher’s just walked into the building so Mickey decides to put out his cigarette early and trudge inside. He flicks his eyes around, his gaze landing on students passing by and the crappy wall displays that’re in the spaces the lockers aren’t taking up. He can’t even remember where his locker is so he just cuts straight through the crowd to get to his homeroom. Ian’s already sat down at the desk closest to the door. Mickey wants to nod at him, acknowledge him or _something_ because he really likes Ian, alright? Fuck, he likes him. And it’s not like Ian has many (or any) friends, he’s sort of distant.

Mickey huffs out an irritated breath because, once again, he’s ignored Ian. He slumps down in his seat when he reaches it and pulls out his pen knife, etching random shapes into the wood of the desk. After a while he becomes aware of the teacher’s presence and the slow drone of her going through the list of names. Unsurprisingly, he finds his eyes drifting over to look at the redhead.

‘Gallagher?’

Ian mumbles quietly in response but the teacher doesn’t hear.

‘ _Gallagher_?’

‘H-here,’ Ian says with a slightly stronger voice. Mickey nibbles his bottom lip, watching.

‘Speak up a bit next time,’ she replies. Although she doesn’t sound mean, just like a tired teacher who simply wants to make it through the day, Mickey can tell why Ian might be feeling reprimanded and small.

‘S-s-s- _sorry_.’

Mickey observes him and can see he’s getting flustered. He narrows his eyes at the freckles that dot Ian’s neck and to anyone looking on, he probably looks like he wants to kill the guy. Definitely not the case by any stretch.

‘ _Milkovich_ ,’ Miss Abraham snaps, effectively drawing Mickey’s attention to the front of the class rather than the back of Ian’s head. People are staring, making him feel paranoid as fuck. He grimaces at them before answering to his name.

‘Yeah.’

‘It’s nice to see you’re here for a change,’ she mutters, marking him in on the computer. The rest of the mundane task flies by Mickey in a blur; he hasn’t even taken the courtesy to learn any of his classmates’ names so it’s especially easy to tune it out.

He feels hot and claustrophobic, like he needs to get out of the room. He fucking _loathes_ high school, and when he’s finally freed from the jail cell of a classroom, the train wreck of a picture he’s painted in his brain of the school doesn’t get any prettier, just a lot fucking worse.

‘He couldn’t even answer to his fucking name,’ he hears this one dumb jock looking guy laugh as he exits the room, spying Ian already halfway down the corridor. He feels like his teeth are going to shatter into a million pieces he’s snapped his jaw shut so fiercely. ‘I-I-I-Ian Gallag-g-g-gher.’

Morons. Fucking morons. They’re all laughing and Mickey’s so sick of their pathetic shit. As Mickey walks past him, he accidentally-on-purpose kicks him _hard_ in the shin. He _would_ have shoved him against the lockers and put his tattooed knuckles to serious use, but it’d look pretty suspicious. He’s never even spoken directly to Ian, only overheard the other boy from time to time. Doesn’t matter that he’s liked what he’s heard, he’s not chancing it.

He makes the decision to skip first period and go for another cigarette, the cold be fucking damned. When he gets outside and turns the corner only to see Ian in Mickey’s usual smoking spot, shakily trying to light a cigarette, he’s definitely surprised. He’s even more surprised when he doesn’t turn around and leave.

‘You need help with that?’

Ian jumps and it’s such a jerky and sudden movement that his lighter slips out of his hand and the cheap plastic cracks as it hits the pavement. Ian’s body shrinks as he lets out a huge sigh, staring morosely at the now broken lighter.

Wordlessly, Mickey pulls out his own and walks over to Ian, igniting it and stepping into Ian’s space to set alight the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Ian looks shocked and the smoke burns for a few moments between his lips before he takes a long, desperate pull.

‘Th… thank you,’ he whispers hoarsely, not making eye contact with Mickey.

‘S’okay…’ Mickey says and then waits for Ian to initiate more conversation. He gets it, that he doesn’t like talking with the way he feels about himself, but it’s just the two of them, so he’s hoping maybe Ian’ll want to talk. Then again, Mickey does have somewhat of a reputation from when he does attend… such as slamming Sanchez’s fingers in his locker for no apparent reason.

Mickey squints at Ian and taps his finger against his own pack of Marlboros, searching his brain for something to say. He’s never really engaged in conversation with anyone, not even his siblings, for a prolonged period of time. He’s used to silence and isolation and he likes it most of the time. But Ian’s looking at the floor and slowly dragging on his cigarette and suddenly Mickey wants to start something up, wants to get him to speak.

‘So you don’t talk much, huh?’ Probably the most awkward way to start up conversation, but whatever, he’s said it now. Ian’s quiet for a minute and Mickey almost thinks he’s not going to answer.

‘I’m not g-g-good with w…words,’ Ian forces out, breath speed increasing as he gets more and more frustrated. ‘No… I d-d-don’t like t-to talk.’

Mickey chews his lip and stares up at Ian. ‘I like hearin’ you talk,’ he murmurs, kicking his foot against the concrete and taking a long drag of his cigarette just for something to do. ‘Doesn’t matter what those other assholes think, you know?’

The small, yet intensely happy, smile Ian gives him in reply is enough for Mickey to not feel weird about this anymore.

‘You do?’

Mickey itches the back of his neck and stares at the graffiti coated brick wall instead of Ian’s face. ‘Yeah. I mean… yeah.’

Ian’s smile falls a little and he then fully composes himself, shuffling his feet and leaning back against the wall, clearing his throat like he’s been through this before and is grounding himself. ‘This is-s-sn’t a joke… right?’

‘Nah, man, I’m being serious,’ Mickey responds instantly, kind of scaring himself that he’s basically complementing another dude.

A corner of Ian’s mouth pulls up in a half smile and he chucks his smoked cigarette onto the dirty ground. ‘No one likes it. N-no one likes…’ He sighs and rubs a hand over his face, finally turning around to look Mickey head on. ‘No one likes hear-hearing m-me talk.’

‘Well fuck ‘em, tell me about yourself.’

Mickey’s not joking when he thinks than Ian’s easy grin’s probably brighter than the sun. And fuck everyone else because they’ll never get to see it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short, I just really wanted to get it posted  
> I promise good things for the next chapter... :)

It takes Mickey about ten minutes of his lunch break stood outside in the cold to finally grow a pair and enter the cafeteria. The buzz of students talking grates on his nerves and he can’t believe he’s actually doing this but whatever, he’s gotta nut up at some point if he wants anything to happen in his favour. Since his conversation with Ian, he’s really been craving more and that’s messed with his mind-set. He can’t focus and again he's hit with the fact that he actually _wants_ to come into school to talk to him. He doesn’t know what the fuck’s gotten into him, but apparently it’s commonly known as a crush. Mickey’d rather crush his own balls in a meat grinder than refer to it as such, though.

He sighs and joins the queue, glancing around, ever paranoid. He pays for a sandwich and a small bottle of water because that’s all he can afford and then scans his eyes over the room inconspicuously until he spots what he’s looking for, sat on his own and staring at the wall. He knows a couple of people are staring at him as he makes his way across the cafeteria but he tries to ignore it.

Ian’s expression is filled with shock as Mickey slams his food tray down on the table, sliding into the seat opposite and commanding the other boy’s attention.

‘Uh…’

‘This seat taken?’ Mickey asks. He doubts it, and even if it is, he’s not giving it up now that he’s made the effort to show up in a high school lunchroom.

‘N… No,’ Ian replies, sounding confused and unsure. Mickey rolls his eyes and grins, unwrapping his sandwich and then just eyeing it. He’s not really that hungry so he’s kind of pissed off he wasted his money on the food. He then sighs and looks back up at Ian who’s staring right back.

‘The fuck’re you lookin’ at?’

Ian narrows his eyes and then glances away, picking apart his own sandwich. ‘Why’d you s-s-sit d-down here?’

Mickey looks at him like he’s stupid, but Ian seems surprised he’s acting so comfortable around him. ‘’Cause I wanted to.’ Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And it should be; Ian shouldn’t feel the need to distance himself from everyone and then be shocked when someone takes an interest in getting to know him.

‘O…kay,’ Ian murmurs, looking at the table with this crease between his eyebrows that conveys how confused he still is. Maybe he thought interacting with Mickey and telling him his interests was a one-time thing. Nope.

Mickey watches Ian for a moment before sighing and rolling his eyes again. ‘You wanna talk more?’

Ian lifts his eyebrows. ‘Uh… S-sure.’

He looks over at Ian for a while longer wordlessly, because, shit, Mickey himself really isn’t good with words anyway, and he’s trying to make Ian feel like he can talk to him and that… isn’t his strong point at all. ‘So…’

Ian wrinkles his brow again and pushes his tray to the side so he can rest his forearms on the table. ‘Why are you d-d-doing this?’

Mickey bites down on his bottom lip and scratches at his jaw. ‘I told you before, man. You gonna make me say it again?’

Suddenly, Ian starts looking smug. Fuck, Mickey likes Ian’s face like that, actually confident, but he’s also got the strange feeling of impending doom. ‘Yup. Why? I-I mean n-n-no one else tries.’

Jesus, Mickey really doesn’t want to admit it a second time. He takes it that Ian already knows the deeper meaning, the fucking _crush_ he’s got, and without a cigarette in his hand it’s even harder to vocalise it again. ‘C’mon.’

‘Tell me,’ Ian says and is it just Mickey or did his voice get a little deeper and his eyes a little darker? He really hadn’t fucking known what he was getting himself into when he’d finally decided to talk to the other boy. Fuck.

Mickey clears his throat and smirks. ‘Damn, Gallagher.’

Ian draws back and drags his lunch tray so it’s back in front of him, expression completely neutral like nothing happened, going back to the original topic, no longer demanding Mickey to repeat himself. ‘I could t-talk more, y-yeah.’ He gulps and squeezes his eyes shut after that, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he stutters, and again the confidence fades. Mickey hates that.

‘You live with that asshole Lip, right?’ Mickey decides it’s at least a topic Ian’s familiar with.

Ian lets out a small chuckle and unscrews the cap of his soda. ‘He’s my b-brother.’

‘Fuckin’ entitled dick.’

Ian tilts his head to the side with an amused expression. ‘I’m getting th-the vibe you don’t l-like him.’

Mickey takes a swig of his water and grimaces because his water’s usually beer. He’s not used to the clean, filtered stuff. ‘He tried to get with my sister once.’

‘Yeah, h-he does th-that.’

‘You got English next?’ Mickey asks after spying the clock on the wall. He feels kind of idiotic for wasting so much time pacing around outside the cafeteria like a pussy. Sure, he probably needs to spend some more time with Ian before they can both feel comfortable talking properly, but he’s gotta admit it’s been fucking nice sitting with someone else.

‘W-what, y-you’re actually gonna s-s-show up for once?’ Ian snarks, grinning as he stands up with his food tray, waiting for Mickey to follow suit.

‘You’re fucking hilarious,’ Mickey grumbles, nudging Ian with his shoulder as he walks past him to the trash cans, dumping his untouched sandwich and then pausing as Ian does the same. Okay so he was going to walk with Ian to class, whatever, it meant fucking nothing. ‘Not like I’m gonna listen to anything the bitch says about fuckin’… poetry or whatever.’

Ian laughs and leads the way out the door as the bells rings. ‘M-Mickey, we’re s-studying _The Tempest_.’

‘Like I give a fuck.’

If anyone notices Mickey coming into school practically every day and sitting in the canteen opposite a certain redhead from then on, that’s their prerogative, but it’s not like Mickey’s gonna give a fuck anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took over a month to write, but, in all fairness, it was only supposed to be one chapter ;)  
> No, but really, I've enjoyed writing this so much and I really hope you enjoyed reading it

The circular motion of Ian’s jaw as he chews is pretty damn mesmerising. Mickey only snaps out of it when the movements slow and then come to a halt. He lifts his gaze to make eye contact with the redhead who’s got an eyebrow raised as he regards Mickey.

‘Y-you okay there?’

Mickey swallows and picks up his sandwich like nothing happened, like he hadn’t been staring like a fucking moron at a dude’s jaw. And another thing, this whole actually coming into school and actually buying lunch at lunchtime’s really started to piss him off; less and less money’s left over to spend on smokes, and he can’t believe he’s not stealing this crappy cafeteria food. What can he say, Ian seems to bring out the fucking respectable side of him. He doesn’t quite know when his transition to drooling high school chick with a crush completed, and it makes it worse that he’s not even sure if he minds it.

‘Yeah. Fine- Everything’s fine. What?’

Ian smiles and, Christ, is he actually letting his fucking heart start beating faster? He’s supposed to be tough to the core and yet his organs have started betraying him. ‘You s-seemed a little out of it for a second there.’

Maybe it’s because he wants to change the subject, or maybe it’s because he’s genuinely surprised, but Mickey blurts out, ‘Your stutter seems better, man. Is that just a… thing that happens? Over time or whatever?’

Ian clears his throat and stares down at the table, using the tip of his index finger to trace invisible patterns on the plastic. ‘It-it g-gets better… s-slightly when I f-f-feel… comfortable.’

Mickey smiles at how bashful Ian suddenly looks and then lowers his eyes to his half-eaten sandwich. ‘You feel comfortable around me?’ He glances up at Ian again and watches a slow grin spread across his face.

‘Shut up,’ Ian laughs, rolling his eyes.

‘Don’t even try to deny it, asshole,’ Mickey chuckles, shaking his head.

‘Fuck off,’ Ian bats back, snickering.

 _Please fucking like me back_.

*

‘C-can I borrow a pencil?’ Ian whispers half way through their English lesson. Mickey frowns because, seriously, the guy’s normally equipped with so much stationary that it’s annoying.

Mickey rolls his eyes and digs around in his pocket because there’s no way he’s ever going to be someone who carries around a pencil case. He doesn’t even own a fucking backpack. ‘You’re lucky I fucking remembered it today.’

Ian smiles and accepts the snapped and battered pencil. ‘Thanks.’

‘S’okay,’ Mickey sighs, before he flicks his eyes to Ian’s desk. ‘Hey, you already have…’ Mickey narrows his eyes at Ian’s uniform set of perfectly sharpened pencils and trails off.

‘I don’t l-l-like my ones,’ Ian replies, completely cool, immediately turning his attention back to the front of the class.

This isn’t the first time Ian’s pulled shit like this and Mickey’s suitably confused until he’s not. Which is logical, obviously, but he thinks he’s cracked it. Now he’s not really one to be able to interpret signals correctly, but he’s going to put it out there that he thinks Ian’s crushing on him back. This all seems so incredibly fucking juvenile, but the realisation doesn’t fail to make him feel fucking over the moon.

He kinda wants to vomit over the fact he even thought that.

‘M-M-Mick, you d-d-didn’t get that down, did you?’ Ian sighs at the end of the lesson.

His thoughts snap back from the edge of him blurting them out. It’s so shocking he nearly winces, like Ian’s voice was a bath full of ice water he’d been suddenly dunked in. Ian actually looks a little exasperated and that one expression is enough of an excuse to go on in Mickey’s head that this whole thing he’s thought up is one sided, Ian’s not gay, Ian wouldn’t like _him_ back, of all people.

Mickey clears his throat and effectively breaks free of his caving in thoughts. ‘Shit. Nope. Do I really care though?’

Ian shakes his head and picks up his books. ‘Y-y-you can’t c-copy off me th-this time.’ Ian swallows nervously and Mickey can’t think _why_ Ian would be nervous. ‘H-hey, you wanna go get a… ’ Almost as quickly as the anxiety had appeared, Ian’s shaking his head and is normal again. ‘Y-you’ve got History next period, right?’

Mickey lifts an eyebrow as he stands up from his seat. ‘Uh, yeah. We have a lot of the same classes, man. Have done for a while now…’

Ian smiles and shoulders his backpack. ‘Just m-making convers-sation.’ Without another word, Ian’s hightailing it out of the classroom, and Mickey’s not sure if he wants him to follow. They’re going to end up in the same place anyway. Mickey decides to make a conscious effort to try to save any reputation he has remaining by walking as slowly as possible to his lesson. It’s the first time he’s been late in weeks.

*

‘You comin’?’ Mickey mouths at Ian from across the hallway, gesturing to the front entrance. Ian smiles and nods, worming his way through the bustle of students to get to Mickey who’s already started walking outside.

‘I-I forgot my pack again today,’ Ian says apologetically as Mickey lights up a cigarette as soon as they’re hidden in their usual spot. Mickey shrugs and throws his packet at Ian, watching as he slowly pulls a cigarette out and places it between his lips. Mickey doesn’t ever get sick of watching the flame from his lighter turn Ian’s eyes the colour of burning driftwood.

They smoke in silence today, but Mickey can’t ignore the tension radiating off Ian as he sucks on the filter. Mickey waits until they’re both finished until he asks what’s wrong, though, because he feels he’d be crossing some sort of unspoken line that had been drawn as they’d lit up.

The sizzle of Ian’s cigarette being ground out under his shoe acts as a cue for him to start speaking.

‘The fuck’s up with you toda-‘

And then Ian’s kissing him. Well… Mickey’s not going to complain but, _fuck_ , this is a kind of surprising development. He’d totally been trying to convince himself that this was one sided recently, which is why he forgets to _fucking respond_.

Ian rips himself away from Mickey and even staggers back a few paces, immediately drawing his hands up to his head and pushing his fingers through his hair. The guy looks like he’s on the edge of a breakdown.

‘H-h-h-h-holy shit! I-I-I-I-‘ Ian can’t speak, completely stumbling over his words; his stutter’s never been this bad and Mickey feels guilty as hell.

‘Fuck,’ Mickey hisses and steps over to Ian before the other boy can overthink his actions too much, before he gets the idea in his head that Mickey doesn’t want this.

‘Mmfph!’ Ian mumbles against Mickey’s lips, keeping his own firmly closed. He pushes Mickey off him and starts breathing heavily, staring at Mickey with wide eyes. ‘N-n-n-no, d-d-d- ** _fuck_**.’

‘Ian, shit, I’ve fucked this up,’ Mickey grumbles, turning around to kick the wall. Ian jumps slightly, and, literally, kill Mickey now.

‘Y-you d-d-don’t have to ki-kiss me j-just to make me feel _better_ ,’ Ian finally grinds out, with what looks to be the beginnings of angry tears pooling in his eyes. Mickey feels like _utter shit_.

‘You think that’s what I was doin’? Christ, Ian,’ Mickey mutters with frustration.

Ian glares at Mickey with his cheeks slightly puffed out, and, honestly, Mickey would find it adorable had he been in a different situation, in a place where he’s not trying his hardest to convey to Ian how he definitely would like to kiss him again. ‘O-okay, then. S-s-so you’re t-t-t-telling me that _w-w-wasn’t_ what happened?’

If Mickey knocked Ian’s head against the wall, would it make him more or less able to correctly  interpret the signals Mickey’s been giving off like a goddamn lighthouse in a pitch black night for the last, say, month or so? He sighs and decides to backtrack slightly, to approach calming Ian down from a different angle. ‘Remember when I said I liked hearin’ your voice?’ Fuck, he’s inwardly cringing.

Ian looks momentarily confused before he just crosses his arms over his chest and lets out a short breath. ‘Uh, yeah.’

Mickey swallows and then glances away from Ian’s gaze because fuck knows how he’d be able to spit this out while looking Ian dead in the eyes. ‘I wasn’t _just_ talkin’ about your voice… I kinda… Fuck- I kinda like the rest of you too. So, yeah, I fuckin’ wanted to kiss you.’

Ian raises his eyebrows in shock and just stares at Mickey for a few moments. ‘Really?’

Mickey closes his eyes and bites down in his bottom lip before looking straight at Ian. ‘Yeah.’

‘So…’ Ian breathes out heavily and gestures like he’s going to continue but doesn’t really know where to start. Mickey just rolls his eyes and cautiously steps forward. Ian eyes him warily and then glances down to Mickey’s lips and back up again.

He’s got to lighten the mood somehow, so he pulls Ian’s ridiculously attractive beanie off his head and then practically has to stand on his tiptoes to press his smile to Ian’s.

**Author's Note:**

> [Send me prompts... if you want... :)](http://southsidemilkovich.tumblr.com)


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